


In the Shadow of the Arrow's Trail

by Ellisama



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Character Study, Family, Gen, Revelations, Submission for Struck to Cinders Zine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 13:59:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9388184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellisama/pseuds/Ellisama
Summary: His mother chuckled at his disappointed pout. “Archery is more than just drawing the string and loosing the arrow, just like how a samurai does more than just wave a sword. It requires trust, and clarity of the mind.”He remembered how Ryoma had tried to teach him the way of the sword, lessons of patience and purpose, and how he’d lost both within the first hour. “I… don’t think I can do that,” he muttered, tears brimming in the corners of his eyes.Takumi, the Fujin Yumi and the three people that helped him perfect the art of archery. A life spend in the shadow of the arrow's trail.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is something I wrote this summer for the Struck to Cinders zine, which has been shipped to most people, I believe. This was my submission solely for Takumi, I have another one about Leo. This was a learning experience, not being allowed to take a lot of words to convey a feeling of growth. I also learned a lot about archery. Finally, a shout out to Abby, who beta'd this back in summer as well. I hope you enjoy this!

Takumi gives in to the temptation to close his eyes and remembers a time long past. All memories are eventually lost to the wheel of time, but some of them last a little longer, shine a little brighter above all others.

He remembers his first archery lesson like it was yesterday: the way the golden sun slowly but surely made its journey across the sky that morning, bathing the world in a warm glow that gently kissed Takumi’s skin. A soft breeze rustled through the leaves of the cherry blossom tree above him, casting a long shadow across the empty green meadow. In a few hours, it would be crowded with aspiring samurai sparring in the light of the summer sun, but at the break of dawn, this quiet sanctuary belonged to just the two of them.

“Are we going to shoot at the tree?” Takumi had asked, waiting impatiently while his mother strung his bow. It was a children’s bow, and yet it towered above him. She had shown him how to string it the night before, soft hands with surprising strength easily bending it to her will. No matter how hard he tried, Takumi could not make it budge. As always, he had been small and never strong enough.

Mikoto’s smile betrayed her amusement. “We don’t need a target, sweetheart,” she said mysteriously as she handed him the strung bow. It was a simple one made of yew, string and feathers. To Takumi, the weapon represented a world of possibilities, and yet, it felt surprisingly light in his hands. An odd weight for something of such importance.

In retrospect, he had probably been rather whiny. “But how will I know if I do it right if we don’t have a target?”

“The only target you will need is the one you have in your heart,” Mikoto explained warmly, her hand on his shoulders as she corrected his stance. She seemed so tall back then, strong and eternal like the tree that blossomed over their heads. “Now, go stand as I taught you, with your feet at shoulder’s width and your back straight. Keep your knees bent a bit because you’ll need the support later on.”

He tried to do as she instructed him, and kept his back ramrod straight and his eyes focused on the empty field in front of him. No matter how hard he tried to will something - he didn’t quite know what - into existence, the field remained the same: green and empty.

His mother chuckled at his disappointed pout. “Archery is more than just drawing the string and loosing the arrow, just like how a samurai does more than just wave a sword. It requires trust, and clarity of the mind.”

He remembered how Ryoma had tried to teach him the way of the sword, lessons of patience and purpose, and how he’d lost both within the first hour. “I… don’t think I can do that,” he muttered, tears brimming in the corners of his eyes.

Mikoto wiped them away before they could fall. “Don’t look so sad. These things take time to learn. Just like the arrow, the archer needs to make a journey to reach his target,” she said, pressing a small kiss on his brow before encouraging him to regain his stance. “Now, draw your bow, and let the arrow fly where your heart needs it to be. You may not hit anything, but I can assure you that you won’t miss.”

Her words were full of confidence and love, unlike Ryoma’s harsh, but well-meant criticism. He hated to let her down, and so for her sake alone he drew the string back once more. It was hard, but failing his mother was harder, so he endured the stinging in his muscles and forced them to relax. With a deep breath, he released the arrow, letting it fly through the air.

To his great surprise, it didn’t fall right to the ground. Instead, the arrow flew straight and far until it finally pierced the ground in a graceful arch.

The recoil caught him off-guard, making him lose his balance and fall backwards, but Takumi didn’t care. “I did it!” he cried out, as much in surprise as elation. “Did you see how far it went?”

His mother helped him back to his feet, her voice as soft as the wind that had carried his arrow. “I knew you could do it. If only you could see it too...”

He hadn’t understood what half of her words meant that day, but it didn’t stop him from trying. He spent every day in that meadow until stringing and shooting a bow became second nature to him.

Later, his mother encouraged him to try and see if he could awaken their ancestral bow. The Fujin Yumi molded to his grip the first time he touched the ancient wood, a weapon of inhuman perfection and precision. People had called him a prodigy, a master even, but from the second he touched the divine weapon, Takumi knew that he still had a long way to go.

Another memory of an archery practice from long past sparkled brilliantly in his memory as well. It was a confusing time of invisible soldiers, hidden kingdoms, and alliances that Takumi had never expected he would see in his lifetime. And yet, some things remained the same.

He set up a target on top of a shattered rock. The meadows of Valla were green and lush, and yet nothing like they were back home. An arrow launched too far would fly over the edge of the floating island, lost forever. This did not matter for arrows made of light and wind, but Sakura’s first bow was made out of yew, string and feathers.

Her hands were like mother’s had been the day she had strung his bow for the first time, small but strong. In time, they would be just as calloused as his own.

“A-am I holding it c-correctly, brother?” Sakura stuttered when he approached her, nervous sweat dripping down her forehead. The sun had been high and hot on their skin that day. If Valla knew seasons like Hoshido, it might have been summer in that strange land.

Takumi took a good look at the way she was standing. Her feet and shoulders were a mirror of his own, and yet something was off. Sakura blinked twice, and suddenly it clicked in his mind. “You should draw the string with your other hand, Sakura.”

“But… I’m r-right handed.”

He shook his head. “Your hands can be trained, but your eyes cannot. From the way you’re trying to bend your neck, it’s clear that your left eye is your dominant one,” he said patiently, and guided her to turn around and position herself again, this time with her right foot pointed towards the target instead of her left. “See, isn’t that more comfortable?”

Sakura’s shoulders visibly relaxed, but her nod looked uncertain.

“Now, draw the bow again.” And he watched her do so. It was heavy for her like it had been for him, but Sakura possessed a quiet strength that few could compete with, and her stance never wavered under the strain. He saw her eyes dart back and forth, insecurities plainly written across her face. “Don’t look at the tip of the arrow. Archery is all about trust. Keep your eyes on your target, and trust that the arrow will fly where you want it to.”

She looked as hesitant as he had felt that morning long past. “B-but...”

“Even if you don’t believe in yourself, I do.” Takumi echoed their mother’s words, hoping to give Sakura half the power Mikoto had instilled in him.

Just like that early morning many years ago, a gentle smile and a little faith was enough to give Sakura all the confidence she needed. He watched as it filled her with enough strength to pull back the string all the way back to her ear, and enough trust to let the arrow fly. True to Mikoto’s words, she did not hit the center of the target, but she didn’t miss it altogether.

“Not bad!” he praised as she lowered her bow. “You’re getting better with every shot.”

The look on Sakura’s face was a mirror of how he must have looked to his mother that day. “But in battle -”

“Archery is more than just a means to end lives. Mother used to say that it’s an art. One day this war will end, but your journey to master archery will not.”

She frowned.“But, aren’t you a master?”

“No, I am not. When it matters the most, I still sometimes miss my target.” The smallest fault in the bow or the tiniest mistake of the archer was magnified ten times with each second the arrow was in the air, making it miss it’s mark. Unlike Sakura’s weapon, the Fujin Yumi was flawless in every way, so any missed hit could only be blamed on himself.

Sakura drew him out of his thoughts with a hand on his shoulder. The sun was high in the sky, but the small shadows it cast on Sakura’s face was enough to age her many years. In that moment, she looked just like their mother when she smiled sadly at him. “Your skill is amazing, Takumi. If only you could see what I can see...”

But he hadn’t, not then and not when he was still a child. It wasn’t until the war was only a bedtime story that Takumi realized that his eyes had been closed all along.

“Dad! Wake up! You promised you would help me improve my stance today!”

The memory shattered apart into a thousand shimmering pieces, and Takumi stored them safely away in the back of his mind. He opened his eyes to see his son hovering over him, his smile brighter than the light of the dying sun.

He remembered where he was, in a great wide valley with birds flying freely and wild over the horizon. They were on a hunting trip during one of his rare days off, deep into the mountains of Southern Hoshido. “Sorry, Kiragi. Did I fall asleep?”

Kiragi helped him to his feet. “Just for a bit. Do you want to go home?” he offered kindly, but it was clear to see that he was disappointed. 

“We can’t go home without dinner, now can we?” he teased his son, and ruffled his hair for good measure. Soon, Kiragi would outgrow him too, but unlike before, this prospect filled him with pride and joy. “Now, why don’t you try a different bow for once?” he said, and held up the Fujin Yumi.

Kiragi looked eager for a second, but hesitated to take the proffered bow. “But, the Fujin Yumi is yours...”

“I didn’t say you could have it. Just try it for a bit. It’s tougher than you think.” His son had a talent for archery, but even a prodigy had to practice the movements for many years before he could call himself a master. “Don’t be dissuaded if it doesn’t work straight away. Just like the arrow, the archer needs to make a journey to reach his target.”

“Okay!” Kiragi smiled, always eager for a challenge.

He set to work as diligently as always. Kiragi was so focused on awakening the divine bow that he didn’t even notice a large stag appear at the edge of the forest.

Takumi took Kiragi’s discarded bow instead. It was simply designed, made of yew, string and feathers, towering slightly over him. The wood bent to his grip before he even drew the string, and he closed his eyes.

It had been so long since he’d used an ordinary bow like this, and he drew it only for nostalgia’s sake. The sun hung low in the sky, blinding him even in its dying moments. He couldn’t see the stag, but it didn’t matter. He could feel his mother’s lips pressed against his brow, Sakura’s strong hands on his shoulders and Kiragi’s warm hand in his own.

_Archery requires trust and clarity_ , the wind whispered as Takumi let the arrow fly, watching its long, dark shadow glide over the green grass. He didn’t need to look to know he had hit the stag straight through the heart.

After decades spent in light of the sun, his arrow’s journey was complete.  


End file.
